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User blog:WayfinderOwl/BTM: 'Tis The Season 1
Like a bad cold, Christmas had come to Bullworth. Joyous song carried in the air. An icy cold wind carried a blanket of snow across Bullworth. For me, Christmas was just a regular day of the year, and my gift was a bottle thrown at me from dear old Dad. Me and my nemesis had to work together on the school play along with Pete and the performing arts kids. Question isn't about whether I could endure the Christmas season, it was could Gary and I actually work together without killing each other? A Bullworth Christmas Carol A blanket of pure white snow draped itself across Bullworth over night, and it was beautiful. At least, until the kids flooded out of their dorms, squealing with joy to either pee on it, stamp on it, whip it at each other, build suggestive snowmen, or a weird combination of all of the above. I headed out the dorm, glad I wore a scarf, hat and gloves. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I wondered if there was somewhere in the world that was both warm and snowy. “Do I have to take part?” asked Pete. “Yes. If I’m going to spend three weeks working with him,” I added, pointing to Gary who had followed us out. “I need my best friend there to stop me from going crazy and ending up back in therapy.” Gary shot me a glare. In a gesture of mocking fake friendship, Gary patted Pete on the back. “And, Femme-Boy, I’ll pick out a real nice dress for you to wear.” He laughed, and headed off into the flurry of snow and excited children. Pete looked to me, eyebrows raised. “I’ll make sure you play a boy part,” I assured. “What is this?” asked Pete, pulling out the book from my pocket. “I got it from the library. After the club meeting ends, I’m taking it back,” I explained. Pete slipped the small book back into my pocket. “Going there every day won’t make her talk to you, you know.” “I know, but I least have to try.” Together we walked towards the school building. Davis had gotten all the little kids together, to sing a old Christmas classic with new words. And I just knew, the moment the song ended, he was going to beat them all up and steal their lunch money. “Crabblesnitch the big nosed headmaster, Had a very giant nose, And if you ever saw it, You would even say it glows, All of the children laugh and call him names, He never lets them play their games.” I had to laugh. Davis was creative. Got to give him credit for that. The poor kids. If Davis didn’t hurt them first, them would probably get detention from the prefects. Pete held the door open to the main building. Four kids walked through, as if he wasn’t there. I pulled open the other door and headed through, Pete following behind me. The foyer looked like a tinsel store had literally exploded in there. We approached the door to the theatre. Pete stopped in his tracks. “Do I really have to take part?” Pete asked. “Yes, now come on Pete. Being in the play might be a blast.” I patted him on the shoulder. The auditorium was by far the grandest place in all the school. Clean and untainted. A balcony, rows of red chairs, box seats, and a stage. I could have stayed there forever, given the choice. Sat on the stage was Gary beside the purple haired girl I had seen with him in Glass Jaw. She wore a leather jacket, jeans and black boots. In a weird combo of a goth and a biker. Sat in chairs along the front row was Ivan, a big girl I knew to be Eunice, and a cute little redhead girl, clutching a thick paperback book, whose name I didn’t know. The purple haired girl waved over, beckoning us to join her. Pete flushed pink, and sank into one of the chairs. I sat down on the stage on the purple haired girl’s other side. “Josh, nice to finally meet you at last,” she said, shaking my hand. “I’m Becky. You know everyone, right? This Eunice, Ivan and Sarah. We are waiting for Pedro and Melody, but I don’t know where they are.” “Outside, Davis is making them sing,” said Pete. He blushed again, as all eyes fell on him. “Well, we will begin when they get here,” said Becky. She turned to Gary. He looked anxious. Twirling a quarter over and over between his fingers. She snatched away the quarter. “Why haven’t you taken your meds?” “I only have a couple left,” said Gary. “I need to make them last.” Becky reached over and snatched his backpack, that lay behind him on the wooden stage. She unzipped it, removing the pill bottle. Twisted off the cap, removed a pill and put it in his open palm. She removed the lid off a bottle of water and give it to him. Gary slipped the pill into his mouth, and drank a mouthful of water. Becky placed her fingerless gloved hands either side of his face, looked into his open mouth. “Okay, you’re good,” said Becky. “There, I took it. Happy now?” “Yep,” Becky replied. She returned the pills to the backpack, removed a hardback notebook, a pen and a letter with Mental Dental’s logo at the top. At the line at the bottom, she signed Bertha Smith. “Oh, and Mom needs to sign the other card in there,” Gary pointed out. “You sign his mom’s name on forms?” I asked. “Since I was seven,” Becky replied. After that, she signed two more forms. That really explained a lot. If anyone else had pestered him to take his meds, they would be on the receiving end of his sociopathic revenge. Once Becky was done with the forms, she returned them to the backpack. She glanced over to Pete. “Sorry, I don’t know your name. Gary only ever used Femme-Boy or The Dork, when he talked about you.” Pete let out a squeak. “Pete,” I provided. “Oh, good to meet you,” said Becky, smiling. Pedro and Melody came running into the auditorium, half covered in snow and sweating. The redhead girl I assumed to be Sarah dusted the snow off them, and draped their coats over the back of a chair on the row behind. Pedro showed the same respect for her, that he did for kids older than him, even though she had to be in the same class. For half an hour, we all threw around ideas for what we could do for the school play. Ranging from Frosty the Snowman, to the story of the first Christmas. All were played out and prosaic. “How much of a budget do we have?” I asked. “A hundred bucks,” said Becky. “That isn’t bad,” I replied. “For the whole year,” Becky added. “Crabblesnitch is a total miser. We spent half of the budget on props for the start of year production of Romeo and Juliet. I need at least forty bucks for the end of year pageant.” “So, ten bucks for a Christmas play?” I muttered. “That sucks.” “We could reuse some of the old costumes,” said Eunice. “I got an idea,” I said. I pulled the book out of my pocket. “A Christmas Carol. It is about some old guy, who extorts money from people and hates Christmas. Three ghosts visit him, and he changes his ways. Cliché, but a classic.” “That could work,” said Becky. “I might have to call in a few favors, but I’m sure we can get everything we need.” “I’m being Jacob Marley,” said Gary, adamantly. “More like Ghost of Christmas Future,” I informed him. “I’m being Jacob Marley, or I’m going right upstairs and telling Crabblesnitch he can stick this play, and you stole from the caf’s good fridge.” From the moment he said ‘upstairs’ he pointed a finger upwards. “Fine. Let the baby have his bottle,” I muttered. Becky tore a page from Gary’s notebook, and wrote that down. She pointed a pen at me. “And for suggesting it, you can be Scrooge, and the director.” ^^^^ After our first meeting ended, Pete and I headed into Bullworth Town, to do some Christmas shopping. How I was going to buy him a present without him knowing was a mystery. His shyness vanished the moment we crossed the wooden bridge. “Becky is pretty hot,” said Pete. “Oh, look at you, DJ Cool Pete. Are you going to ask her out?” “No.” “Why not?” “She is a junior, I’m a freshman. She wouldn’t even give me a second look.” “Probably for the best, anyway. Ivan told me she only dates jocks.” Near Shiny Bikes, a couple of the nerds were pushing around a little kid. The very same girl we had met in the auditorium. Sarah. Her red hat had fallen to the ground. A tall red haired boy held her book out of her reach, and the smelly one everyone knew the name of—Fatty shoved her and called her a Hobbit. I felt shocked to see them. Kids at the bottom of the pecking order, surely, would be hesitant to bully others. I run across the road, grabbed Fatty by the sweater, and shoved him towards the nearby trash can. “You leave her alone, or I’ll stuff you and him—.” I pointed to the other kid. “In that trashcan. Give her the book back, and get lost!” The taller kid threw the book at Sarah. She caught it, clinging the book to her chest. Both of the nerds ran off crying like babies. “You alright?” I asked her. She looked up to me with her green eyes. There was a mole just under her right eye. “Yes,” she said, her cheeks flushing, burying her face behind her book. “Sarah, you’re in my class, right?” asked Pete. Face still hidden, Sarah nodded her head. “Yes…” Her eyes peeked over the top of the book. “I have to go…” She run along the pavement, and vanished around the corner. I bent over, fetching up the hat up off the ground. Straightened myself up. “What is her problem?” “She is just shy. Sarah sits at the front of class. Teachers don’t even ask her questions, because they know she won’t be able to answer,” Pete explained. He took the hat from me. “I’ll give her that back tomorrow.” “Did she skip a couple of grades or something?” “No. She is fourteen like me.” “Oh! Cool.” In the town square was a Santa’s Grotto set up. The decorations were beautiful. A large castle façade, with a sleigh. Candy canes and gifts. Trees and lights. All of it was the stuff I dreamed of as a little kid. Exactly what my parents never gave me. Christmas for me was watching my parents get completely drunk. When Dad threw an empty whiskey bottle at me, I knew the day was over, and it was time for me to go to sleep. “Lame, huh?” said Pete, pointing at the grotto. “Yeah, lame,” I lied. Secretly I wanted to join the line and meet Santa. Perhaps this year I would actually get a present, or at least not get a whiskey bottle thrown at my head. Letting it go, I turned away stamping through the snow, wondering what I could get for Pete. Maybe something nice for Beatrice, that would encourage her to forgive me. Category:Blog posts Category:WayfinderOwl's Fanfiction